


Bated Breath

by ElloPoppet, hawkguyandthewinterdude



Category: Marvel, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Circus Performer Clint Barton, Dog Tags, Embedded Images, Epistolary, Falling In Love, Flirting, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Letters, M/M, Major Character Injury, Nicknames, Pen Pals, Period Typical Violence, Period-Typical Racism, Permanent Injury, Pining, Slow Build, Soldier Bucky Barnes, World War II, mentions of period-typical homophobia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2020-01-23 07:58:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 20,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18545581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElloPoppet/pseuds/ElloPoppet, https://archiveofourown.org/users/hawkguyandthewinterdude/pseuds/hawkguyandthewinterdude
Summary: "Mr. Clint Barton -I promised you I'd write, so here I am, a man of my word. Though to be frank, I'm not quite sure what to say, mostly because I'm not sure what you expect of me."Following a chance encounter at the circus prior to Bucky leaving for war, Clint and Bucky begin exchanging letters. Epistolary fic with handwritten letters.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello reader!
> 
> The two of us have been writing each other letters for a few months now, as we live across the globe from one another. As we've been writing to each other, we've also been doing a Clint/Bucky WWII Epistolary roleplay. With actual, handwritten letters. It has been a blast, and we decided that we are going to start posting the letters here on AO3 in multi-chapter fic form. 
> 
> *DISCLAIMERS*
> 
> We are doing this for fun. We are not history buffs, and we have decided to leave the letters undated as to not mess up the historical timeline terribly. You'll have to go with the flow if you want to stick with this one!
> 
> The posting schedule will be 1 letter every 2 weeks, aiming for Sundays. It takes about 2 weeks for a letter to be written, posted, and received between Austria and the US, but we do have a few letters in the bank already so we should be able to stick with the posting schedule. 
> 
> The letters get longer over time (this first one is a wee little thing!), and will include some extras down the line also. 
> 
> Please see end notes, and enjoy!
> 
> Writing for Bucky: ElloPoppet  
> Writing for Clint: Hawkguyandthewinterdude

Transcript:  


Mr. Clint Barton –  


I promised you I’d write, so here I am, a man of my word. Though to be frank, I’m not quite sure what to say, mostly because I’m not sure what you expect of me. Having only spoken with you briefly and knowing very little of you beyond your impressive gymnastic and archery skills, you will have to forgive me if this correspondence holds little interest to you. I suppose you’d like to know a bit more about me? Your actions at the circus tent seemed to indicate as much. I’m 20 years old, an orphan, no family to speak of other than Stevie, the little blond pipsqueak who was with me at the circus. We’re not blood, but he’s the closest I’ve had to a brother since we grew up with one another at the orphanage. There’s not a lot to know about me past that, truly. I’m good at fixing things, especially motors and other machines, and I suppose I’m not that bad a dancer. What about you? Do you do anything other than fly around in the air or shoot your bow? You seemed to me like you have a dancer’s body – Do you?  


We got settled in at base about a fortnite ago. Not a lot happening as of yet, not for us at least. We’ve gotta finish building a few more of the air strips to get the base fully functional, so it’s hard labor for us for at least the next few months. It could be worse, it could be battle, but it’s awfully rainy here. All the time, rain falling from the sky. I bet you’d like it. You seemed happy in the rain the night we met. Looked a bit like a shaggy wet dog, but your smile was a good one.  


That’s all for right now, I think. It would be good to hear from you, Clint Barton.  


Most Sincerely,

 _Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes_ (Call me Bucky, if you’d like)  


US Air Station 152  
Debach Airfield  
Woodbridge  
Suffolk  
IP13 6QS  
England

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes,
> 
> To be quite honest, I‘m surprised to read this letter from you. As you said, we barely know each other and even though I think we might have had a moment together before your pipsqueak brother dragged you away, I was mostly joking when I asked you to write to me. And yet… I am oddly happy and relieved to see, that you are a man of your word."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because both ElloPoppet and me are weak we're posting this chapter a whole week before the actual date that we wanted because we're both impatient and we really just want to spare you guys all the suffering that is waiting for an update.
> 
> This is also the first letter that Clint aka me (hawkguyandthewinterdude) wrote. I really hope you guys enjoy it and again, this is purely written because it was fun and is definitely not very historically accurate.

  
  


Transcript:

Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes,  
  
To be quite honest, I‘m surprised to read this letter from you. As you said, we barely know each other and even though I think we might have had a moment together before your pipsqueak brother dragged you away, I was mostly joking when I asked you to write to me. And yet… I am oddly happy and relieved to see, that you are a man of your word.

I do know a thing or two about orphanages myself and to be honest, I am very glad you had Stevie to keep you company, to have your back, even though I have a feeling, that you had to have his back more often. My brother and I ran away to the circus when I was 8. As a side note, I’m 17 years old and as you might have guessed, an orphan myself. There are a couple of things in my past that might need mentioning, but for now they are not that important. I might tell you about them in another letter.

You know, I do believe you, when you say that you’re a dancer. – Something about the way you hold yourself, the way you move. Unfortunately, I’m not much of a dancer myself. You might not believe me, but when I’m not performing, I am… now do I say that, prone to accidents. My brother has quite a few words to describe me, but none of them are nice.

Sadly, there is not much time left in a day after training and performances. My mentors always want me to learn new tricks, be better, faster. They push me hard, but that’s how it is. I need to prove to them, to the circus, that I’m worth it. That they won’t regret taking me and my brother in all these years ago. Aside from shooting every day and practicing knife-throwing I also build my own arrows and keep my bow in good working order. They are, after all, my bread and butter.

I have to admit, it is a bit surreal to think there is a war going on while we are all still here, performing and travelling like nothing has changed. Visitors are still coming, now even more than before and I think it is because they want to escape reality for a bit.

On that note, Bucky, please be careful over there, even though it might only be hard labour for now.

I’m just going to ignore the comment about me looking like a shaggy, wet dog and will tell you, even though your smile had been beautiful, you did look like and angry, wet cat yourself.  
  
  
I do hope, that this is what you were hoping for and I shall be awaiting your next letter with bated breath, Bucky Barnes.  
  
  
Please take care and don’t catch a cold or something worse,  
_Clint Barton_  
  
PS.: By the time your next letter will most likely reach me, we will have left New York behind and will probably be in Scraton before heading further North West towards Cleveland.  
The address for your next letter:  
Scraton Main Post Office  
2800 Stafford Ave  
Scraton, PA 18505  
USA  
  
PPS.: If we really have moved on from Scraton, I would have made sure to leave a forwarding address, so you won’t have to worry, that somehow your letter won’t reach me. Additionally, I would like to apologize for the glitter that seems to get everywhere.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have obviously been impatient, hawkguyandthewinterdude and I. We were aiming for a bi-weekly posting schedule but have posted the last three Sundays in a row. We're going to try to stick with the bi-weekly posting schedule moving forward after this letter, because we don't want to catch up to our backstock of letters. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone reading and commenting! We are so excited!

  


Transcription:

Clint,

I hope it’s not too forward, using your first name. You took me up on calling me Bucky (thanks), so I figured it might be fine. Even the playing field, and all that. 

I’m not all that shocked to learn that you’ve been with the circus for nearly a decade. You looked like such a natural fit. ‘n that’s not a jab, either. Just seemed like home to you is all. Things musta been pretty shit to make you and your brother book it out when you were so little - I sure hope it was worth it. Seems like they push you pretty hard, maybe harder than what’s necessary? I can’t imagine you’ve got a ton left to learn. I’ve never seen anyone make shots or do tricks like you. You’d make a damn impressive sniper if you were on this side of the tracks. Glad you’re not. I’m still helping prepare the base mostly, but a few of the guys I deported with have been taken to the front lines. ‘m not really scared of getting sent out or anything, but ‘m not exactly itchin’ to go, either. 

Your days sound like they have to be somewhat fun there? There were lots of interesting lookin’ folks who were part of the show that night. Most of them seemed real nice, some of them seemed a little bit scary, but all of them seemed like they would have a lot of stories to tell. You seem like you might have a lot of stories to tell. I’m lookin’ forward to hearing them, if you’re willing. You are the one who caught my eye the most, after all. 

You know, I’m not all that blown away by learning that you’re a bit of a disaster. I don’t say that in a mean way, like it sounds like your brother might. Don’t think I didn’t see you stumble your way knee deep into that puddle after we said goodbye that night. Didn’t seem like the bad kind of disaster, though. ~~Seemed~~ ~~cu~~ ~~ador~~ You should have that belly-dancin’ Gypsy lady teach you a thing or two. That would be a sight. 

It hasn’t really been all that long, but you know what I miss already Clint? Milkshakes. It gets real hot real fast in these hangars, where the fighter jets are gonna be stored in the next week or so, and the water is always warm. I know it’s a dumb fuckin’ thing to complain about when people are dying, but there’s nothing like warm water in a boiling hot tin aircraft hangar that makes me wanna cry for a cold strawberry milkshake. You like milkshakes?

Besides, I should bitch about it now when I have the chance. My gut is telling me that my number’s gonna be pulled soon. I’m too unlucky to have this be it. This job’s too cushy to last, and this war doesn’t seem to be slowin’ down any. You’ll probably be enjoying those bigger crowds for a while longer, Clint, so I hope they’re tippin’ ya well. 

The sun’s setting now which means it’s nearly lights out, so I guess this is as good a place to end as any. Not quite sure if this was worth the “bated breath,” but hopefully it makes you feel even a fraction as giddy as your letter did for me. 

Sincerely,  
_Bucky Barnes_

P.S- An angry wet cat? I’m a Sergeant. You’ve got nerve, I’ll give ya that. 

P.P.S- I’m not sure any amount of apology will make up for the glitter. The guys think I’ve got a dame back home, won’t leave me alone about it. Dum-Dum thinks you’re a stripper. Congratulations.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I have to say, that for most of my life I never felt like I belonged.  
> Not with my parents, not with my any of the foster families we were placed in and not at all with the mean nuns at the orphanage."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The picture that I added to the letter, was drawn by the amazing when-it-rains-it-snows on tumblr and she agreed to let me upload it here to the story! You should definitely go check out her tumblr and also her redbubble account (snows)!  
> Thank you so much again for letting us use your fabulous picture of Clint!

  
   


 

Transcript:

Bucky –

 

I haven’t explicitly stated that you should call me by my first name, but I guess it was sort of implied – so no – I don’t mind at all!

You know, somehow it (didn’t) feel like a jab or an insult even though I can only guess what your tone of voice might have been like if you were talking to me.

I have to say, that for most of my life I never felt like I belonged.

Not with my parents, not with ~~my~~ any of the foster families we were placed in and not at all with the mean nuns at the orphanage. The circus somehow felt like a revelation in that department, because as an outcast or the odd one out you suddenly fit right in. The circus somehow became our first real family and I can’t even tell you how good that felt.

It flatters me, that you think I’d make a good sniper, but I highly doubt they’d want someone like me in the army. ~~but if it meant I’d be able to watch your back once you’re sent to the front~~

I’ve been told I don’t do well with authority figures and I’ve heard there are quite a few of those.

Sometimes it feels like I get pushed past my limits by my mentors, but it’s not really an option to miss or fail, so… I guess, I get it.

You are correct though, my life here is better than anything I’ve ever had and nothing could trump the stores some of the clowns or gypsies would tell over dinner.

Fuck – I really hoped you didn’t see that, but it means that you looked back and that’s a plus in my books.

I’m currently working with the trapeze artists, but Elena (the belly dancer) probably will be delighted to rope me into one of her numbers. If I break a hip or something, this will be all your fault, even though I’m pretty fucking flexible, if you know what I mean.

You know what? Next time I got a bit of extra money and some time to myself I will drink the biggest strawberry milkshake in your name even though I’m more of a chocolate milkshake kind of guy.

The lengths I am willing to go for you…

I have to admit, I’m not sure I’d want you to tell me once you were drafted to fight at the front lines. I mean of course I want to know, but you know… I would definitely worry. ~~a lot more than I already do~~

I am definitely not a lucky person, ~~even though I met you~~ but still, I will keep my fingers crossed for you.

As it is, the people are tipping quite well so I guess I’ll be getting that milkshake soon.

 

Are you kidding me? Of course it was worth the bated breath! And I have to admit, that I don’t quite have the words to describe how it makes me feel that you seemingly enjoy receiving letters from me.

 

Sincerely  
 _Clint Barton_

P.S.: We made it to Pittsburgh and it’s getting warmer here – time to change costumes!  
Unites States Postal Services  
186 42nd Street               <\-- new address!  
Pittsburgh, PA 15201  
USA  
   
PPS.: Well, I don’t know about any dames, but maybe this will work for you as well. Fuck yeah! Once I mastered the belly dance I can totally strip. ~~for you~~


	5. Chapter 5

  


  
  
Clint-

 

Stevie probably wouldn’t agree with me, but I’ve never truly felt like I belong anywhere. You might understand the feeling of not being able to ever truly belong in an orphanage, but I never really belonged in school, or in my dock job that I had before joining up. The guys there all seemed to want to impress one another with their drinking, or smoking, or their luck with the dames. That right there is why Steve would laugh at me if I told him that I felt like a wallflower. I have some charm when it comes to gals. They like the way I look, the way I dance, and a lot of them are willing to go pretty far with me. But I’m not real proud of that, ya know? I don’t have a girl waitin’ for me to come home, because none of ‘em really seem to want to stick around for long. I don’t have ~~a fel~~ anybody waiting for me, really.

 

Well, apart from maybe you? If you really did drink a milkshake in my honor, you’ll have to let me buy you one in return once this war is over and I make it back home. You’ll be comin’ back to Brooklyn someday, right? Not that it matters. I’d be willing to ~~come to you~~ ~~come to you~~ come to you.

 

I don’t exactly know what to say here. I’ve got your last letter in my pocket, but for no reason other than to keep it close to me. I know it word for word, and some of those words had me wondering a coupla things, but I don’t really know how to ask them. Maybe I’ll figure it out by the end of this letter.

 

The whole point was to say that I’m real glad you feel like you fit in so well at the circus. You’re born for it, to entertain folks, make ‘em smile. I was born to build things I guess, and even though the hangars are don there’s so much more left to do. Maintenance, engine work, mechanical work. Hell, last night the guys and I were putting together bunk bed frames for hours. I got someone sleepin’ underneath me now. Bastard is a loud breather and I fear that I might lose my mind. Stay tuned, I guess!

 

Obviously with us doublin’ up our sleeping cots, the plan is to hold more soldiers, even more than whats bein’ shipped out. That should make me feel better, right? Maybe the fightin’ is starting to slow, less of us to leave.  

 

I hate to say it Clint, but I’m pretty sure you’ll know if I get sent out. It’s the only thing that could keep me from returning your letters as soon as possible.

 

You know, you’re a little sloppy with your letters. I feel like I was able to make out some things you maybe didn’t want me to see. But if I’m readin’ this right (and God knows I’m probably not, because there is no way I could be so lucky), you don’t have anything to worry about. I don’t want you to cross things out, because I really liked what I read.

 

Fuck. I’ve got a lot of things that I could like to say to you, but if I’m wrong or if these letters fall into the wrong hands it could mean bad things for the both of us.

 

Clint, I met you once and hardly know you through letters even, but I miss you something’ fierce and I hope you understand when I ask if maybe I should start addressing you by your initials? Or a nickname. Something not as...obviously masculine.

 

I really hope I haven’t overstepped. My apologies if I have. I’ll understand if I don't hear back from you, but I gotta say I’ll be holdin’ my breath for even just one more letter.

 

Sincerely,

Bucky Barnes

 

P.S- Thank you for the polaroid. It’s really somethin! I’d love to be able to tell ya more what I think about it, but I’ll wait for your next letter, for your response. I’ve included a photo for you, it was taken during weapons training, so before we even met. If it had been after we met, you’d a been able to tell. I’d probably be smiling. Been doing that a lot, lately. What kinda man smiles during the war?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi folks!
> 
> My wife helped us out in a pinch with the image in this chapter. You can find her on Tumblr at gimpysoupcreations. I should probably do something nice for her, huh?
> 
> Thank you, and as always, we hope you enjoy!
> 
> -EP


	6. Chapter 6

  
  


Bucky, 

You can count on me, that I’ll be waiting for you to come home - wherever that might be at the time. You know, somehow I think I know about that charm of yours. I mean, look at me. We met once and exchanged a couple of letters and now I’m sitting here, waiting for the next letter, to hear from you, to make sure you’re still okay. 

This letter took a bit longer than the last and for a second I was terrified. I thought, what if? You know? What if you’re...and I still get your last letter and you will never read my reply. I have to admit, that that thought kept me awake for the last couple of nights because, Bucky, I’d very much like to know your exact thoughts on the last picture I sent you. 

Fuck, Bucky, what would I give to see your face when you read this. I want to see your smile. Jesus Christ, your smile, B, makes me weak in the knees just thinking about it. 

You know, I love performing, the circus in general, but I think I’d give it all up in a heartbeat to come to you and just make you smile. ~~for the rest of~~ I think you got the hands of someone who builds things, who was made for building things. When I shook your hand, I could feel your callouses, you could probably feel them on my hands as well. 

Aw, loud breather, no! I’m sorry your bunkmate sucks, B. Wouldn’t want you to miss out on more sleep than necessary (maybe you would’ve dreamed about me, you know). 

You know, those things that I crossed out, maybe I wanted you to read them, to maybe decipher ~~them~~ what I was too scared to just say straight out. 

Jesus Christ, B, you are lucky with ME? I think you really don’t know much about me yet because let me tell you what I was told by basically any dame that I tried to impress: “You’re just a carnie, what could you possibly have to offer me?” The first time, I laughed it off, because she was right. What could I possibly offer to anyone? To you, B?

And I really want to offer you everything, B. I would, only if I could.

I’m totally fine with nicknames or just initials, B, I already quite like that to be honest. 

Fuck, I miss you too, B. So much. I really wish I’d be able to see you sometime soon (and just in case it wasn’t clear already: don’t you worry your pretty little head, B, no overstepping of any kind occurred). 

Yours, always,  
_C_

PS: Jesus Christ, warn a guy, but I guess I started that, huh? But, do you think you could maybe smile in the next picture? If you can send one of course. I fucking adore your smile, B. I fucking adore you. 

PPS: New town - new address:  
US Postal Service - C. Barton  
611 63rd Street  
Chicago, IL, 60621  
USA

That milkshake would’ve tasted so much better with you there, B.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This week's picture was drawn by the amazingly talented and super duper sweet natowe (check out her tumblr she IS amazing).
> 
> Also huge thank you to my amazing co-author EP who transcribed this letter for me because University is seriously kicking my butt and I am so very fond of sleep. *shakes fist at time zones*
> 
> As always, I hope you guys enjoyed this and honestly, I can't wait for you guys to read the next letter!
> 
> (Additional Note from ElloPoppet: Getting to transcribe one of Hawkguyandthewinterdude's letters from Clint to Bucky was honestly a gift. I was able to experience it in depth just like I did the first time I read it once I received it in the mail, and it has me all aflutter all over again. Gah, she and her Clint are just...saints. Enjoy, folks!)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, dearest readers!
> 
> Please enjoy this latest letter, and just know that in two weeks, my favorite letter (thus far!) from Clint/Hawkguyandthewinterdude goes up and I am so excited that I feel it in my toes. 
> 
> Happy reading!

  
  


C-

I’ve been staring at this piece of paper for damn near an hour, wondering where to start, wondering how I’ll start and if I’ll be able to stop once I do. I could write to you always, I usually am in my head throughout the days and nights. 

Goddamn, C, you know how to take my breath away. I was certain, so certain that I would never hear from you again. When we met (and yes, sometimes I think I can still feel the callouses on your hands beneath my skin; must be from the archery?) I knew it must have been in my head, that spark. But you smiled at me so much, and you didn’t seem to want to say goodbye, same as me. Stevie said you got this look in your eye when you talked to me. 

He knows, about ~~my~~ me, about ~~how I like~~ how I’m different than most fellas. But this? This is the first time I’ve spoken of it to anyone else. And it’s terrifying to me, C. I’ve seen bad things happen when the wrong people find out the wrong things. I make sure that the photo you sent me stays in my inner breast pocket, and I wrapped it up in a little chincy plastic frame with another picture in front of it, one of an old friend of mine, Sharon. I hate hidin’ it, but I like keepin’ it close to my heart. 

You wanna know my thoughts on that picture, C? Lookin’ at that picture hurts me in the sweetest way. You really followed through, an honest person. That shake looked heavenly, so ice cold and sweet, but not as sweet as you. As much as I miss the taste of a strawberry milkshake, I think I’d miss the taste of you more, if I ever got the chance. 

I really wanna get that chance, C, and I really hope I do. A few more guys from the unit were shipped out last week, but they volunteered to leave their post. Pretty soon, we won’t have that option if things keep going the way that they do. I thought about volunteering to go. I really did. Is it selfish that I’m not ready to go without knowing how I’d be able to keep talking to you? Because I thought: What if C sends a response to my last letter and I never see it? I had to know if any part of you felt how I feel. Not that it helps to know that we appear to be on a similar page; I’ve never wanted to go to the front lines less than I do right now. 

My time will come, C, if this war doesn’t end soon, but please know that I’ll fight like hell to make it back to you. I would never want you to give up your performing, or anything that you love. Let me come back to you instead. 

My bunkmate still breathes loud, and sometimes he cries. It’s quiet, it’s always quiet when we cry. We all do it, but none of us wants anyone to know about it. Isn’t that somethin’?

You better learn how to shut that mouth C, talkin’ shit about having nothin’ to offer me. Do you even see yourself? Do you know how contagious your laughter is? How easy you are to talk to? How impressive you are, at everything I was lucky enough to see you do? Christ. Get outta here with that. It’s not a question of what you have to offer, it’s what I’ve done to deserve any of your attention. Fuck. You’re perfect, for me.

I couldn't get a picture fast enough (I didn’t want to wait another minute to respond) but I’ll do my best to send one with my next letter, and all I’ll have to do is think of you, Doll, and I’m sure to smile. I did send a little something’, real little. Stevie’s the artist, not me, but I found a pack of these tiny canvases and borrowed some dyes from the uniform gals. I’ve been wondering if you’re lookin’ up and seein’ the same stars as me, so I made you my night sky. When I look up into the universe, I see the stars, and the colors of your circus getup, and the colors of your eyes. What do you see?

In Aching Adoration,  
B

P.S- I miss you too, sweetheart.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I know, that at some point it is going to be inevitable because from what I read in the papers it is not going to end anytime soon, my love, it’s just going to get worse and it keeps me up most nights, thinking of you, worrying about you being shipped out without me knowing, without you knowing how I feel about you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So apparently this is EPs favourite letter (thus far who knows if she liked the next one even better) and I can tell you guys, Clint got to tell Bucky something big that's been on his mind for a while!  
> I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it.  
> Hawkguyandthewinterdude~

  
  


 

Transcript:

Bucky,

my love, I must get this out first; I don’t know how I feel about you ever thinking of volunteering to be sent to the front. I know, that at some point it is going to be inevitable because from what I read in the papers it is not going to end anytime soon, my love, it’s just going to get worse and it keeps me up most nights, thinking of you, worrying about you being shipped out without me knowing, without you knowing how I feel about you.

I’m a little scared, that I’m going too fast, that you’re not feeling the same way ~~yet~~ , but with news about countless casualties at the front, seeing wives and mothers at the post office receiving their letter, informing them that their loved ones won’t ever come back home, it feels like we’re running out of time, B.  
The day I sent my last letter, a young woman in front of me got her letter, all formal looking and she broke down crying and I tried to comfort her, but how do you comfort someone who just lost the most important person in their life? What can you say to make it less hurt? And let me tell you this, B, I lost so much sleep until I received your last letter. I was so fucking scared you’d never know… but now that you do, the fear hasn’t really gone away either. I’m thousands of miles away and no means of ever knowing if anything happened to you. I’m sorry, if this letter isn’t as happy or cheerful but I can’t get that woman out of my head, B.

This might be a colossally stupid idea, but do you think you could give me Stevie’s address? I… I’m not sure what I’d do with it, but you know… it might be a little comfort to have the possibility of talking to someone who’s probably as scared for you as myself.

But now back to something a little happier! Bucky, I can’t tell you how much this little canvas means to me! It looks so beautiful and I got it set up beside my bed so it’s the first thing I see when I open my eyes in the morning and the last thing I see once I go try to go to sleep at night. And imagining you, sitting there between those gals with paint all over your hands and face because you wanted to send me this. Did Dum-Dum tease you? Or did you do it in the middle of the night without anyone noticing?  
We passed through this small town a week ago and we set up camp for the night on this empty field outside of town and I could see so many stars, B. You probably already guessed, but I never went to school for long, never really learned all that stuff that people think is important, but space… and the vastness of the universe out there intrigues me and terrifies me equally.  
  


Sharon, huh? Should I be jealous, my love? That you got a picture of her with you? What about Stevie? Do you have one of him as well? He is your brother after all.

Jesus Christ, B, you can’t just write something like that! Now I’ll be torn between worrying about you and imagining what you’d taste like, what our first kiss is going to be like. (Yes, going to be like, because you are coming home to me, my love. You have to promise me that you’ll come back to me. That we’ll talk about a future together and I don’t care if it’s me living across the hall from you, working some odd jobs, or if we’re travelling with the circus, staying nowhere long enough to really call it a home, but that caravan will be our home.. and it won’t matter where we are because we’ll be together and that is everything that really matters.

I’ll be looking forward to that picture of you smiling, B.

I have never felt this way before,

_C_

 

PS.: I couldn’t help myself and notice the smudged ink on the first page and… I don’t want to assume anything, but, Bucky, my love, I hope you weren’t crying while you wrote to me? If not, and it was just rain or some spilled water, just ignore this but, it would kill me to see the evidence of you crying on something that was supposed to make you happy, cheer you up while you were over there.

But anyway, just so you know, I miss you, and don’t laugh at me, but I love you, Bucky.  
  


Address:  
United States Postal Service – C. Barton  
4120 Manchester Ave,  
St. Louis, MO 63110  
USA


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back, readers!
> 
> Just as a check-in, I wanted to give an update to let you know that Hawkguyandthewinterdude and I still have a few letters in the bank (two following this one are already completed/mailed/received/scanned, so we have 4 weeks worth of material). However, we have hit a bit of a pause in our two letters a month writing timeline as we have been avidly preparing for myself to fly from America to Austria in 2 WEEKS (AAAAH!) in order to meet in person! We will keep you updated if there is going to be a lull in the posting schedule at all. Otherwise, we really hope you enjoy and PLEASE check out end notes for info on this chapter's artist!
> 
> Much love,  
> EP

  
  
  


Sweetheart-

I have to use your last letter as a guide, or else I’m going to lose focus with everything I want to say to you. I want to write it all, all at once, just cover these pages in ink with everything I’ve got flowing through my head that’s been keepin’ me awake since reading and re-reading your letter once it came yesterday afternoon. 

C, with not knowing what to say, I’ll just say it now even as afraid as I am. I’m not going to have to volunteer. We’re goin’ in order of birthdays, now, and with mine being in March there’s no way that I’ll go longer than a month, maybe six weeks before my time comes to head out. You’re right, I know you’re right. The war’s not slowin’ down, and I hate to think what it must mean that they’re sending guys the likes of us out, mandating it now. 

I’m scared, and not for the reasons that I ever thought I would be. I’m not scared to die, not really (no point in bein’ scared of something that’s bound to happen one day, right?) but I am scared of never getting the chance to feel your hands again, of not being able to look into those pretty eyes when I say all the things I want to say to your gorgeous face. I’m scared of not gettin’ to love you how I wanna love you, and it makes me so angry I could burst with it. Why now? Why’d I have to meet you now, when we’re getting ourselves tied up over here, fighting? I know we’re fighting for what’s right, because I gotta tell ya, I’ve been having nightmares over the things I’ve been hearing happening to people over here. Not just the Jewish, but mixed race folks, handicapped folks, even men like...well. Nobody that deserves it for any reason, and it’s terrible and makes me sick and there’s a small part of me that’s lookin’ forward to fighting for that, for them. For us. 

But I’m mostly just scared of missin’ out on you. 

There’s no guarantee that’ll happen, C. Like I said before, if I’m fightin’, you’ve given me even more reason to fight with all I’ve got. Let them try to keep me from comin’ home to you. Let those fuckers try, darling, cuz that’s as far as they’re gonna get. 

I can’t think of a problem with you having Steve’s address. That punk writes to me sometimes, too, and I don’t think he’d be surprised to get a letter or visit from you. He’s good at reading between the lines, that one. He stays at 10 Strong Place, Apartment 2C, Brooklyn NY 11231. That happens to be my address, too, when I’m not across the ocean. Just in case you visit, you’ll get an idea of what I see every day when I’m home. Though it smarts something horrible to think of you there without me. 

I’m real happy that you liked the gift. I argued back and forth with myself for a long while before finally putting it in the envelope. I figured you might think it was silly, or sappy. I’m not the greatest with grand romantic gestures, C, but you make me want to try. And what I said is true; I see all of those things in the sky. I like knowing that we’ve gotta be seeing some of the same stars. The universe is so big, so huge and unknown and wide; whaddya think it means that we met each other? I don’t believe in fate, but I might have to change my tune depending on how all of this turns out. And yeah, Dum-Dum teased me, said I must “have it bad” and called me Cupid. It was real tempting to tell him that you’re closer to being Cupid than I’ll ever be, what with your proclivity for arrows. 

And don’t be a fool, sweetheart. Sharon? She’s more like a sister to me. Her and her cousin Peggy live in our apartment building, just down the hall. Now Peggy, on the other hand, has got it pretty bad for Steve and so it brings Sharon and I a ton of joy to egg them on and get them all blushin’ and stammerin’ like schoolkids. I have a picture of all three of them, not just Sharon. Don’t you worry about her; maybe one day she’ll be like family to you, too. 

Christ, sugar, I can’t just say things to you? YOU can’t just say things to ME about tastin’ me, what our first kiss’ll be like. It’s all I think about. Well, almost all I think about (get your head outta the gutter, CB, because most of those other thoughts are pretty sweet and sappy if I do say so myself). I imagine running to you, wherever you happen to be, taking you in my arms and holding you so tight that I can’t tell where I end and you start. Our lips will find each other like magnets after being apart for so long, and you’ll be soft and warm, sweet and smoky, and I won’t ever want to leave that moment or the taste of you and I pray to God that I won’t ever have to once I’m there.

That future you talk about sounds real nice. How much time do you think you’d be able to negotiate away from the circus? I apologize for my ignorance, but I’m not entirely sure how that all works. Can you travel month on, month off, or choose to join up with them when they’re in nearby states? Because I would never want to take you away from what you love to do. I’d just as willing go with you around the country. I’m good with fixin’ things, good with my hands (maybe you can put that mind of yours in the gutter a bit with that, cuz I’m dying to get my hands on you, baby), so maybe the circus could find a place for me behind the scenes. What would they think of us, there? Would we have to hide no matter where we are? Maybe we belong in the middle of nowhere, together. That sounds just as good to me. Whatever you’re game for, C, I’m game for. I just gotta get back home to you. I can’t make any real promises in my right mind, but I can and will promise that I’ll give it all I have for the shot at a future with you. 

And maybe I laughed a bit, Doll, but only because it makes me so happy, the thought that you love me like I love you.

Yours,  
BB

P.S- Tears come and go, sometimes out of pain, sadness, frustration, joy or glee. Sometimes, everything at once when it comes to our letters, but I wouldn’t change it. Any of it. 

P.P.S- I hope you like the picture. I didn’t know how to look, or what to do with my face, so I thought of you flyin’ through the air laughing like the angelic hellion that you are, and it made me smile, just like I knew it would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The incredible art for this chapter was commissioned from grumpycakes on Tumblr; please please please check out her blog/check out her art tag @melart. She was a joy to work with and this portrait of Bucky takes my breath away.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "To be honest this whole letter was a fucking ride, Bucky. First you punch me in the gut with bad news but then you say so many things that I could barely keep on reading because the words kept blurring in front of my eyes. Most of them were happy tears though."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy fucking hell, friends and people! In less than two days EP will step off the plane and will be here with me! In Austria! I can't tell you how excited I am to finally see her and hug the shit out of her!  
> For now, we got one more letter saved up after this but I expect that we will be writing a lot together without the hassle of having to send all them letters with snail mail!  
> Anyway, no more talking! Enjoy this chapter friends!  
> (For more info on the amazing art of this chapter please check out the end notes!)

  
  
  
  
  

 

Transcript:

 

B,

as happy and as giddy as I was holding this letter in my hands, it only lasted for a very short amount of time. But to be honest this whole letter was a fucking ride, Bucky. First you punch me in the gut with bad news but then you say so many things that I could barely keep on reading because the words kept blurring in front of my eyes. Most of them were happy tears though. 

I don’t know what to say, my love, but deep down I’m glad you’ve told me. It’s not exactly reassuring that ~~we~~ you know when it’s your turn, but it felt like we were running out of time no matter what. I know, well, I hope, that you being shipped out won’t be the end, but I feel like our letters will be a lot less frequent after that. Or at least your replies will be. I will probably keep sending you letters, hoping that they’ll reach you on a bad day and somehow brighten your day, make you smile even.

And I will have to worry about you a lot more.

It is strange, to see all the… campaigns and flyers and posters for the war, the pressure to volunteer for a good cause and yet nobody would tell us how bad it actually is. Because it is, I know it is. It has to be with the force they put behind all those ads.

About a week ago I took some of the smaller kids to see a movie – it was free, in the park. We got a few dirty looks because we weren’t locals and they didn’t set all of that up for those fucking carnies but I convinced some of those assholes that the kids hadn’t done anything wrong and were just as deserving as all the other kids already there and they showed three propaganda films before they got to the actual movie. And may I remind you that this was some animated film for kids? (It was about a little deer called Bambi and his mom was killed by a hunter and only a couple of minutes in I had four crying kids with me and how was this even a kid friendly movie?)  There were mostly families there. Actually, mostly mothers with their kids because guess where their fathers were.

But… anyway, B. Back to something nicer. And who are you to insinuate that my mind is anywhere near the gutter at all? My thoughts are all pure and absolutely innocent. Of course, I wouldn’t think of your lips on mine, how they’d feel against my skin. I wouldn’t think of your hands, touching me, holding me while you kissed me, tasted my skin, took me apart with your lips and tongue and put me back together with your hands. I wouldn’t think of you pressing me against a wall, holding me still while you had your wicked ways with me until I’d cry and beg for you to… no. How could you think I’d think of any such things, James Buchanan Barnes? Questioning my virtue like that!

 I’m sorry, that this letter is all over the place, but it’s been hectic to say the least. We’re up to three shows a day and I’ve been writing this in between shows and changing and setting up, taking care of the animals… I could really use a break, my love. It’s not the same if I can’t even sit down and write this letter in peace.

Please don’t be scared, my love. We’ll figure it out. Somehow. I know that you can’t promise anything and this is a fucking war we’re talking about but I can’t… I need to keep this positive. I can’t make myself think of the alternative, because I need you, B.

I’ll be waiting for you to come home and we’ll have a shot at that future. We’ll be together. Once you’ll get back home we’ll meet up there and go on Stevie’s nerves, meet Sharon and Peggy and maybe together we can fix Stevie and Peggy up so he moves out and we got the place all to ourselves?

I can’t wait to see your apartment. We’re usually on break during winter so I might catch a ride to get to New York, see how you live. Try it out for a couple of days to see what we’ll be getting into once you get back home.

You know, at the circus, with the fortune tellers and the gypsies and all that, they are a pretty superstitious folk and when I saw you, all prettied up in your uniform… I knew it was fate. And then the way you looked at me, the way we… gravitated towards each other. I knew this would be something big and look at us. I can’t imagine myself going on without you in my life and I can’t wait for the day the war is over and you’ll be coming home to me.

Most of the time I think sweet and sappy thoughts about you as well, but sometimes… I just can’t help myself, you know. I did get a pretty good look at your ass in those uniform pants and thank the lord for that, even though it’s sinfully beautiful.

I do love the circus, but it’s more of a go big or go home kind of deal. We had some people come and go over the years, but I’m one of the main acts. And Barney won’t be able to fill in for me for that long. But honestly… I wouldn’t even have to think about my choice, because it’ll be you. It will always be you, Bucky.

I’m sure I could work something out, especially over the winter but honestly… I wouldn’t mind… leaving the circus. I know it’s a huge part of me, but I would find something to do. Maybe I could teach archery to some snobby kids.

About the people in the circus and about us… I’m afraid not all of them would be accepting. Honestly, the circus is full of assholes and bad people. Honestly I’m not even sure my brother would be okay with us. He’s.. fuck don’t get me wrong, my love, my brother is my only family and I love him but he’s an asshole.

But now I started imagining us together in the middle of nowhere, buying a farm and some goats and Buck… so. Many. Dogs. and cats if you want. But I just want all those dogs.

Jesus fucking Christ, B how can you just leave that to the end of the letter to tell me that you love me too? I was so nervous you’d think I’m dumb or creepy. But now I can’t stop smiling and I really want to say it again and again.

I love you,

C

 

PS: Don’t even get me started on that picture, my love. It’s perfect. You are perfect. Is it weird that I can’t wait for you to come home so I can wear your dog tags? It somehow feels kind of huge and intimate.

PPS: Just in case you actually get shipped out between now and the next letter, here is something that might make you smile. And I think it’s pretty safe to carry around. Take good care of it. It’s the only copy. I love you.

United States Postal Service – C. Barton  
820 Armour Rd  
Kansas City, MO 64116  
USA

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, first of all, the amazing art of this chapter is from latelierderiot (please check out their tumblr!)   
> The full colour version is the original and to make it more nostalgic and vintage looking I added a filter but I really wanted you guys to see the original version because it's so fucking gorgeous!
> 
> But there isn't much else to add I think. I really hope you enjoyed this chapter - my hand hurt so much after finishing it!  
> Much love - hawkguyandthewinterdude (jesus christ I need a nickname as well - EP help!)


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there friends and loyal readers! Those 8 1/2 days that EP stayed with me for realsies were honestly surreal! We had tons of fun and did so many things! Unfortunately that kind of didn’t leave time for us to actually sit down and write letters to each other without having to snail mail them as we planned, so this chapter is actually the last of our backup letters. So for now we’re almost as clueless as you guys. But fear not! I got...kind of sort of stuff planned for Clint’s next letter which hopefully I’ll be able to get to soon (sadly life and work and uni are about to kick me in the butt real hard but I’m still optimistic to make the two week deadline)  
> Anyway, sorry for my rambling here - this letter is pretty fucking amazing just like the author of this wonderful letter. Fuck I already miss EP something fierce. - hawkguyandthewinterdude (still need a cool nickname like EP got ☹️)

  
  
  
  


 

Jesus fuck, baby.

 

I can barely control the grip on my pen I’m shakin’ so bad. I got your letter less than quarter of an hour ago and I’ve been reading it until the words blurred so much I had to put it down. One thing’s for sure; if you’re willing to leave the circus behind, maybe you can write books, or poems, or love letters, maybe even stories a bit racier than that. Your words have my heart splitting into shreds, and my throat closing up with how much I want to cry and laugh with joy, and my blood pumping hot and fast, so much so that even the whisper of a touch could light me on fire, C, my god. 

 

I don’t know where to start. Where can I possibly start when I feel like I need you here in front of me with my hands on you to say everything I wanna say? You said that I took you on a ride with my last letter, starting with the bad stuff, so let me get the bad stuff out of the way first. 

 

February 26th. That’s where we’re at with birthdays as we’re being sent out. It’s a strange feeling in my gut, knowing my time is closing in fast. I don’t know if I would rather it be a surprise or if I like being able to prepare myself. When I signed up, I knew what I was signing up for, and I’ve been real lucky so far to have it as easy as I have. Manual labor in the heat and doing repairs to scorching metal is a lot different than pointing a weapon at another man and knowing that I might have to pull the trigger. 

 

My biggest fear isn’t not making it back to you. Not anymore. Because this can’t be it, can it? It’d be too goddamn cruel if these letters are all we get. We’re not running out of time, my sweet acrobat, we’re just hitting a hole in the road. No, I’m not scared that I’m not gonna make it out alive anymore. But I am real scared that I won’t be the same person you met that night months ago, the one you asked to write to you, the one who you’ve been sending all these pretty letters to. The frontline changes people. We’ve all heard it, men being sent home missing pieces of their body or their minds, not even able to finish this war we’ve got ourselves wrapped into. 

 

I’m just hopin’ that I come out on the other side the same man you’ve fallen in love with. 

 

Enough of that, for now. Chances are that I might not get your next letter, not ever if not for a long while unless we get lucky and all of this mayhem gets shut down before then. But me? I wanna focus on what we’ve got going on here, me and you. I wanna have a conversation with the person I’ll be coming home to. 

 

The one who takes children to see films, apparently? How tooth-achingly sweet are you, huh? I couldn’t stop smiling reading what you wrote about that. Somehow I wasn’t surprised. You ever think about kids of your own? I know it’s not for everyone, but I bet you’d be good with them. Maybe teaching some of the brats some of your skills would be just as good for you as it would be for them. I know a lot of the kids in Brooklyn could use someone like you. You seem a bit like a kid yourself, in all the best ways of course. I know that you’re all ~~ma~~ grown up where it counts, I’ve seen that and read it first hand. 

 

Speaking of which, how dare you, you absolute sadist? What virtue does someone like you have to even question when you’re so comfortable writing such things to me, and from halfway across the world at that? You’re a cruel one, and you got some things wrong. Would I touch you, and hold you while licking into your mouth? Yes, absolutely. Would I tear you apart until you were pleading with me to finish you, pleading for me to stop and never stop, all in the same breath? Sweetheart, that’s a guarantee. Where you have things wrong is that I’d be the one begging for you to take control, do as you please, hold me down, have your way, any way you wanted to take me.

 

That’s how I always imagine it, anyway. I think tonight might be different after reading your letter. Perhaps a little less virtuous, a little more...involved. Your hands will show up dancin’ in my dreams though, that’s a guarantee. Your hands and your eyes and that grin. It’s a given, really. 

 

Fuck. I’m ruined, ya know that? Stevie pointed that out in the last letter he sent to me. “C’s really ruined you for anyone else, so it would seem.” Punk was right. He’d be thrilled if you paid him a visit, honestly. He’s all ready to welcome you into the family, I think. That’s fate if I ever believed in it. I’d be willing to bet that you’re a bit more superstitious than I am, what with your big feelings on that first night and growing up with all of those interesting people. I sure am glad you were the one who took the plunge and asked me to write to you. You’re stronger than me, C. I was gonna just leave, keep the feeling of your hand and the spark in those eyes as a memory. Thank the stars that you felt it too, that gravity, that force pushing us toward each other. You talk about me coming home, but sweetheart, that moment _was_ me coming home. 

 

I can’t believe I didn’t see our picture getting snapped. I woulda opened my eyes, woulda made sure that I was looking right at you. I can’t thank you enough for sending it to me, I know it can’t have been easy to let go of it if you feel even a fraction of what I think you might. That picture, with our bodies touching, just before the rain started to fall? That picture is what’s gonna get me through, I guarantee it. 

 

You’re just too good to me, but I think I’m over complaining about how you deserve better. I don’t want you to realize that I’m right and leave me hangin’ because it’s too late now. I’d follow you everywhere like a lost puppy and then you’d have to take me in, with your big heart ‘n all. 

 

As unfair as it may be and as disheartened as it made me feel when I read it in your letter, I’m not shocked to hear that folks in the circus might not approve of us. It’s rare to find a place that would. We might have the option of my apartment, if not my particular one maybe another in the building. It would be real nice to stay in or close to Brooklyn. But then we’d have to hide everywhere not behind our front door and fuck if it doesn’t smart to think about having to hide away something as beautiful as you. 

 

I think I would like having goats, and we can have as many dogs as you like, dearest. We’ll fill two barns with them if you want. Our favorite can sleep at our feet in the bed that we share. We’ll name the mutt something like Chance or Destiny. Lucky has a nice ring to it. These are all things that we can talk about once I’m back on your soil, in your arms. Honestly, we could live on a small patch of grass with the clothes on our back and potatoes to eat and it’d be perfect. Home is where you are, my love. 

 

For now, this will have to do. It’s nearly light’s out. Nobody really teases me about my dame back home anymore, I think they’ve even noticed how sappy you make me. Half of them still think you’re a dancer, and I’ve decided to just let them think what they will. It’s half the fun of my days anymore, hearin’ that you’re a stripper.

 

I hope you’re alright, C. I need you to be okay. The thought of you hurtin’ so far away? It kills me. So have another milkshake (treat yourself to chocolate this time, please?), spend some time looking at the stars, and know that you’re always on my mind, every minute of the day and night. 

 

I love you, I love you, I love you.

B

 

P.S- No need to wait, sugar. I hope you keep my tag on you whenever you can. Just knowing that you wanted it took my breath away, and I already feel closer to you knowing that you’ll have it. Honestly? I can’t stop imagining how gorgeous you’ll be wearing only my dog tags. 

You make me crazy. 

Never, ever stop. 


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You know, nobody ever told me that I could be anything other than what I am today, which… depending on who I ask, varies between carnie scum, a headlining circus performer, an archer, maybe an acrobat as well."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made it in time! YAY me!  
> Okay, so, first of all. My hand hurts like a sob. At some point I started to type these letters before writing them by hand which was a great idea really, but now I sort of get carried away easily and when I have to transcribe 1.6k words by hand in not really my actual handwriting... welllll. But it was fun and I'm very proud of this chapter and I finished handwriting it like an hour ago.   
> I don't want to tease too much but it starts to get a little more serious for our two favourite guys and I think this is slowly setting the mood for that.   
> On another note, EP got the first draft of this letter last night because I just didn't get to it earlier and there is a lot going on in both of our lives right now which will mean having to wait to send the next letters all in a big package in a couple of weeks - but fear not. The "one chapter every two weeks" - schedule should stay the same with maybe some minor exceptions.   
> I really hope you guys enjoy this letter as much as I did writing it.   
> Thanks to all of you for reading and sticking with us and the boys through this incredible journey.   
> Love you all, hawkguyandthewinterdude!

  
  
  
  


 

Transcript:

My Beloved,

 

You know, nobody ever told me that I could be anything other than what I am today, which… depending on who I ask, varies between carnie scum, a headlining circus performer, an archer, maybe an acrobat as well. We’ve talked about this before, but since I never got much education… I was nervous to write to you. What if my spelling is crap? What if I just don’t know the words I need to tell you how you made me feel – how you make me feel with your letters, your gentle words, the tear tracks on paper. I’m no writer, my love – probably never will be, but for you, for you I’m willing to try. I don’t care what it is, what you might ask from me I’d do it without having to think about it. I would give you everything and more in a heartbeat just because you’d be here, with me. God I can’t wait to touch you, to hear your voice again, god your voice, B. Your voice, your laugh and your eyes, your hands. How can I miss these parts of you so fucking much?

I’m scared I’ll forget what you sound like, my love. Is that dumb?

 

Oh god, B. What if… oh god. What if you’re already gone by the time I got this letter? What if you already had to shoot someone? For a second I really had to put down my pen, close my eyes and breathe. My mind kept spiraling and I couldn’t breathe properly. It felt like there was an elephant standing on my chest and nothing could make it budge. Elena, I think I told you about her before, came by and saw me struggling. She helped. Caught a glimpse at your letter as well and she hugged me real tight and oh god B, I can’t tell you how much I needed that. She told me that we’re destined for more than just our letters and the way she said it, my love, it’s like she knows.

God I can’t wait to hug you just as tight once we’re together again.

Fuck, I’m sure you give the most amazing hugs.

 

I probably will never be able to understand what you’re seeing over there, what horrors you’re going to live through just so you can come back to me, but no matter what happens, no matter who you become, it won’t matter to me, because it’ll still be you. And I don’t remember if I told you before, but it will always be you, my love. You ruined me for anybody else. After getting to know you at the show and through these letters… even if… and that is a giant ass if, my love, something should happen and you’d be missing a piece of yourself, I will do anything humanly possible to help you get it back. No matter what happens, B. We’re going to have a future together. Just like Elena said.

 

Oh Christ, B. Warn a fella. You know, I never really had the time to just… be a kid when I was younger, and I look at Barney and he… he’s not who I want to be like when I’m his age. I don’t want to be bitter and mean and angry all the time. I don’t want to… fuck, I don’t want to be like my dad. I don’t want to get drunk in the morning and make all the kids afraid of me. I like it that you think I’m like a kid and that I’d be good with them. That’s what I want to be like. But… babysitting all the circus brats and having a kid on my own, I don’t know, B. What if I make mistakes and ruin their lives? I don’t know if I can handle the responsibility and who would I be, dragging a kid into a world like this. What if… what if we got a boy and… and he turns out like us? I don’t want to teach him to hide who he is because somebody says it’s wrong, even though we’re not hurting anyone? I don’t want him to go hungry and thirsty every day, forced to beg for food and water every day just because I’m not able to provide for him. But… in a world without war and without having to hide, I’d have all the kids ~~with you~~ with you. Maybe one day, huh? Some goats, all of the dogs and a couple of kids. Sounds like heaven to me – as long as you’ll be sharing that with me.

 

Once again, my beloved, this letter is a roller coaster. First you ask me if I ever want kids and then this? I almost choked on my own spit reading this. You can’t just… but fuck, I guess it’s my own fault, eh? But honestly? I’m good with either. I want you to wreck me, to take me apart until I beg you to stop, to finish me or keep going forever but thinking about me doing the same to you? My hands all over your body, getting to know you all over again. Feeling your muscles, the softness of your skin, the firmness of your ass, because from what I saw I know I’ll be able to bounce a quarter off it. Maybe I can turn that into a new trick as well? We gotta practice once you’re home.

(Imagine me winking at you here. Because I am. Winking at you. Well, at the paper. But you know. It’s still you somehow.)

 

Aw, Stevie. Is it weird that he feels a little like a little brother to me? I mean, from what I remember he’s a couple of years older than me, but who cares. He feels like a little brother. And I can’t explain how glad I am that he’s okay with us. It’s good to know that family has your back, you know? I wish Barney would be a little like Stevie.

Oh, fuck me, B. You talk about me writing poetry and then you say things like that? But I know what you mean. I always felt like I came home once we joined the circus but now? Now home is thousands of miles away on the front lines of a war that doesn’t seem to have an end. How messed up is that? I think I really am homesick most of the time.

 

You know, to be honest, I had that picture in my hands so many times and I really wanted to send it to you with like… my second letter, but I just couldn’t. I couldn’t let go of it yet, but then… when you told me it would be your turn soon? I knew that you’d need it more than I do. I know you’ll take good care of it and once we’re together, we’ll frame it and put it on the nightstand, yeah? Together with all the other pictures and the small piece of the night sky you sent me all those weeks ago.

 

As if I would ever meet anyone better than you? Nobody can hold a candle to you now and nobody will ever be a fraction of the person that you already are. You’re IT for me. There will never be anyone else. Ever.

 

I’ve started to wear your tags the second they fell out of the envelope and most of the time I keep them hidden under my shirt or my costume. Partly because of what people might think, but mostly because this is just ours you know? I don’t want to share it with anyone else, that you put your life in my hands so willingly.

 

Tell you what, B. Once you’re back here with me and we’re home alone, I’ll put on some music for you. Something slow and sexy and I’ll dance for you. Just for you and if I lose some clothes while I’m dancing? Well that’s just unfortunate how lose all my clothes seem to be. But I’ll make sure your dog tags will stay on all the time. Sounds like somebody has a weakness for me in nothing but pretty jewelry?

 

How about we have that milkshake together? I always had a weakness for chocolate covered strawberries anyway.

 

I miss you. Can’t wait to hear from you, my love.

Love you infinitely,

C

 

PS: You know, I’ve been thinking a lot about ~~my our~~ my future, what I could be aside from a circus performer and I thought, what if I could just… be an archer? Nothing more and nothing less. Did you know that they used to do archery at the Olympics? They stopped about twenty years ago but… could you imagine? It’s stupid, I know. But… it’s a nice dream to have. To compete in the Olympics, but, I don’t think I would have been good enough anyway. Maybe one day. One day I’ll compete somewhere. It doesn’t have to be the Olympics. Just… somewhere. To see if there’s something else I could learn from those who actually got a real education and had fancy archery teachers who didn’t get beat up for missing a shot. It’s nice to dream for once, isn’t it? What is your dream that you know is ridiculous to have, but still can’t seem to shake it entirely?

 

PPS: I don’t know where you are right now, so I don’t know if you’ll even get this letter, but no matter where you are or what happens… I’m thinking of you and I’ll be waiting for you.

 

Unites States Postal Service – C. Barton

3022 W | 44 Service Road,

Oklahoma City, OK 73112

USA


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "My love, my life, my whole world, my Bucky"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I know you probably expected a letter from Bucky, but SURPRISE! It's another one from Clint!  
> I really hope you enjoy it, even though it's a rather short little thing.  
> Thanks so much for sticking around for all of these letters. 
> 
> Also, special shout-out to NotTheBlue who's been amazing and such a sweet sweet person to take all that time to basically write entire essays on our letters and seriously you are amazing and you made me feel so happy and proud of what we're doing here. So even though it is just a little short thing - this is for you my darling!
> 
> Love you tons, hawkguyandthewinterdude!

  


 

Transcript:

My love, my life, my whole world, my Bucky,

 

It’s been so long since I sent my last letter and even longer since I heard from you last. I don’t know what happened, or why you’re not responding. Is it just because it’s hard to get letters to the front lines? Or did something happen to you? There was a lot I said in my last letter and I don’t know, a couple of months ago I would’ve been worried that I might’ve scared you off, but not anymore. I don’t want to sound presumptuous but somehow, I think by now you’re a sure thing, aren’t you?

So, why are you not responding? Am I supposed to start worrying now? Should I sneak out in the middle of the night and try to get back to New York to see if Steve knows something? Don’t think I wouldn’t do it. Because I would. Fuck all of this. I need to know you are alive and okay.

 

Please, if you ever get the chance to send a letter, please let me know you are okay. I don’t think I can take this for much longer. I don’t care if I sound whiney or desperate or whatnot. Is this how it’s gonna be until you get back home? I’m not sure my heart can take that much stress and pressure all the time. I will probably end up with a heart attack by the age of 20 if you keep this up, my love.

 

Even though it’s been so long, I don’t really have much new to tell you. Life just goes on, the circus moves on and on and I can’t do much else but follow wherever they want me to go. I perform, I train, I try not to worry too much about you while I’m on. Barney and Trickshot have noticed that I was more distracted and in-my-head than usual and sadly, my love, they can't really understand. My head still hurts and Elena updated my stage makeup to hide the lingering bruises. That kick in the ribs from Barney was pretty nasty too but what was I supposed to do? I just can’t stop thinking about you. I can’t stop wondering what’s going on and since I haven’t received a new letter that’s not really helping either.

 

God, Bucky! I really wish I could be there with you. Have your back and see you with my own two eyes, not having to wait weeks for a sign of life and if that doesn’t come. Well, here we are, aren’t we?

 

I really don’t care how desperate I sound, but please, my love, please end this excruciating long wait and let me know you are still alive.

 

I love you, with all my heart and soul.

C

PS.: You know, there was some military guy at the last performances tonight. Barney told me that he was looking for me. I’m not sure I’m going to like what he has to say.

But don’t worry, my love, I will let you know what he had to say.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my, dear readers and friends! It is getting more and more desperate! Also.. again. A letter from me and not EP! But I promise it will be Bucky's turn again soon! 
> 
> Thanks so much for sticking around, for all the kudos and amazing comments! You give me (and EP too I'm sure) so much life and joy!  
> I'm seriously baffled how many of you like this and I'm so happy how much you guys really like this!
> 
> Also, as some of you might've noticed we now have a final number of chapters! We got a basic outline for this and we hope that this is going to bring you joy even as we already passed the halfway-point and keep on going towards the end oh so slowly. 
> 
> Love you tons! Enjoy this next chapter!

  
  


 

Transcript:

B,

I know it’s been almost four months since I got your last letter but I can’t make myself stop sending you these anyway. I have no idea how you are or where you are. I just really, really hope that… fuck… that you’re still alive somewhere and that my last few letters just got lost somewhere on the way or maybe it’s really just… too hard to get the mail to the front.   
I told you about that military guy that was looking for me in my last letter…   
Guess what, babe. He found me and he was impressed with my skills. Asked me if I was as good with a gun and turns out... I am.

I know I should’ve written the moment I got the news but… I thought that… you know... I didn’t want it to be true. And I didn’t want to worry you in case it was all just a mistake; but they rushed me through basic training and I already knew that I liked to be high up, but the rush of jumping out of an airplane is fucking unreal, B.

This might be the last letter for a while because, fuck… I’ve been drafted, my love. I’m leaving tomorrow morning and it looks like they’ll drop us off right in the middle of it all. From what I’ve heard I’ll be spending quite a bit of my time in Normandy from now on. I don’t know if you’ve heard of us and somehow it’s a sick kind of rush to actually… be part of the army now. I never wanted to join. I never wanted to serve, not because of… fuck... I don’t know, B. I had a home in the circus, until I… fuck B.   
I don’t… I miss you! I miss your letters and I’m scared that… we’ll never even have a chance at that future we kept talking about.

I’m scared, B.

But… anyway. I can’t change that now and I don’t think there’s much anyone could do. Somehow it’s this sick sort of thrill, you know? Is this how you felt when you knew you’d be deployed soon?

 From now on, you’ll be writing to Private Barton of the 101 st Airborne Division. Surreal, isn’t it?   
You know, since I don’t know if you’ll even get this letter I’m not sure if I’m more or less scared of your reaction once you find out about me being deployed.

You know,  _ when _ I’m able to fall asleep, I keep dreaming about this moment… it’s stupid, I know, but I can’t really help myself either. So, I keep dreaming that we’re both… over there. That we’re both at the base and thanks to fate we just… run into each other out of… pure chance or fucking destiny, and… I know I won’t be able to kiss you and hold you the way I really want to, but I picture your face and it’s exhilarating to watch your reactions, my love. First, first you’re surprised and you’re not sure if you’re dreaming or if you’ve gone crazy, but then you reach out to touch me and… and you do! You realize I’m there and then you’re happy for a second but then… that’s where I start to worry, my love. I can see your smile dimming and finally vanishing because you realize that it’s really me. That… fuck. That I got sucked into all of this madness and that even though we’re finally close enough to touch it will be in the middle of a war zone with pain and death and misery omnipresent all around us and we have to be extra careful so nobody… finds out about us. You don’t know if you should be happy or sad or mad even and that’s usually when I wake up because I can never figure out if you’re happy to see me or mad for me joining, following you into the jaws of death to finally have your back.

I barely sleep anymore, my love. When I’m not thinking about the army and what I will be getting myself into, I think of you. It almost kills me not to know how you are, where you are and if you’re as safe as anyone can be in the army in the middle of Europe. I’m desperate to find out anything about you at this point and I realized that I don’t even know which unit you’re in or where they stationed you after Suffolk. I’ve been trying to get information out of anyone who’d listen to me. Asking about Sergeant James B. Barnes born some time in March. I don’t even  _ know  _ your fucking birthday. But thanks to your tags, that I keep wearing hidden with my own, that I keep holding onto in the middle of the night when sleep just won’t come, I know your Service Number but so far no one was willing to even look if there are any news about you.

Please, B. Oh god, please, be okay. Be  _ alive _ .   
C

 PS: I know it’s probably stupid, but I used you and Steve as my emergency contacts because my brother is an asshole and doesn’t really have an address anyway so yeah… should anything happen to me, Steve will be the first to know. And I just hope that this letter will find you somehow and that we’ll both make it home in one piece.   
Fuck, B, I love you so much. And I don’t want to sound like an asshole but I sort of wish that I hadn’t sent you that polaroid of us together. I could really use that right about now. 

PPS: As soon as I can figure out a new address, I will let you know, but you probably know all the big bases better than me. Just try to find the one for the 101 st , yeah?

 


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends! I've missed you!
> 
> A few quick notes. This chapter hurt me to write, because I don't like my loves being sad. This chapter includes self-worth/self-esteem issues related to a disability, as well as mentions of opiate addiction (not for either of our main characters, but I figured I would mention that bit of front). 
> 
> SO...enjoy this letter, and please don't hate me :)
> 
> -EP

  
  
  


 

Private Barton, 101st Airborne Division -

~~I don’t know how~~

~~How am I supposed to~~

~~It hurts so damn m~~

I’ve been missing you. And I’m more sorry than I can even think to explain.

I’ve been trying for a few days to write this letter. Emotionally and physically it’s been a chore. I got your last one...what I think was your last one, you telling me that you were enlisted. Jumping into the same fucking mess that split us up in the first place, at the beginning. I read your letter a lot, so much that I’m afraid the paper might come apart.

I wish I’d never read the words, Clint.

The thought of you being out there? Being where I was where you couldn’t reach me, being where I was for those months when you were worrying, Steve was worrying, everyone was worrying out of their minds. Being out there where I saw the worst in people and the worst of this world.

I should have found a way to tell you to run. I should have found a way to tell you to lay low until the end of this nightmare. Goddammit, sweetheart, I shouldn’t have even said a word to you that first night at the circus. It was selfish of me. I feel like I pulled you into this. Would you have been so eager to go with the recruiter? They didn’t even call your number, you fucker. Why did you do it? Why did you go?

If the day comes where I find out that you did it in the hopes of seeing me sooner, I’m going to lose every piece of sanity that I have left. And I feel like it isn’t a lot, pal. Especially because we flipped.

I’m safe. As safe as can be in this world anyhow.

And you’re not.

And Clint? I don’t know how you did this for so long. If we’re on ~~th~~ the same level here, which it was really seeming that way to me, then I don’t know how you were all the way over here while I was all the way over there. Not knowing. Wondering. Worrying so much that your breath sticks to your insides until you’re just this side of drowning.

Are you alive? Are you hurt? Dead? Buried already, that beautiful body of yours nothing but a shell being stepped on or over?

I can’t handle it. I don’t know how to do this. You’re stronger than me, doll. I’m sorry I didn’t realize that sooner than now. And if you do read this, and I hope you do more than anything, I’m sorry if it’s dark. I’m in a dark spot myself, right now, my dearest. It’s not your fault. I don’t mean to make it sound like it is.

After all, I’m the one who left you first. Idiotic. How could I have been so idiotic? I knew what you were to me the second we touched. Maybe the minute I saw you, all purple and flying. I could have defected. I almost thought about it.

But now? I’m here.

It might not make a lot of sense to you. I feel like I might be rambling. You see, that’s what the medicine does to me, all the time. Makes my brain a little fuzzy, words hard to come by depending on the time of day. They say it’s for the pain of my injury, but part of me wonders if they can tell how bad my heart’s breaking. I don’t tell them that the pills don’t help the heartache. They don’t ask.

I don’t like the morphine, Clint. Some days I’m not even sure if I know who I am. It was even worse at the beginning, when I was at the first hospital over there, before coming back to the States. I lost days, maybe even weeks to the stuff. Got to the point where I felt like I was dyin’ if I didn’t have the drip going all the time. That’s when they lowered my dose; told me that there were lots of soldiers getting hooked on the stuff something fierce, needing it like food and water, losing their minds over it.

I was angry. Glad they did it, though. I have more days where my head’s clearer. The pain’s worse, but maybe it’s worth it. I haven’t forgotten you, after all. Don’t know what I would do then.

Doesn’t mean I like it, though. Stevie’s here a lot, visits me at the hospital while I’m working on getting ready to go home. He’s the one who’s gotta hear me whine and moan about the room spinning, the one who rubs my back when I get sick all over myself sometimes. I’m glad it’s him and not you, I guess. I’m afraid you’d turn around and walk right back out if you saw me like this.

That’s why I’m in a dark place, darlin. Because truthfully, I’ve been telling myself over and over again that you’re going to come back and you’re going to see me like this, like I am now, and it’s all going to disappear. It hurts and burns like nothing else, but it’s still easier to think about that than to think that you won’t be coming back at all. It’s what I have to hold onto.

I’m glad you’re enjoying flying. I am. I’m glad that there was a time when you had all of those gorgeous, sweet dreams of the two of us with a piece of the world our very own, maybe with a family of animals or babies. I hope those thoughts brought you so much happiness while they could, because I don’t know if that’s going to be your dream when you see me next. I’m not the same as I was that night at the circus. My mind is different, my body’s different. I”m…

I don’t know how to say it. Steve says I should just say it. Says he doesn’t think it’ll make a difference to you either way. I think deep down I know he’s right, but damn if I’m still not so scared of you knowing. Or maybe I’m scared to write it down because it’ll make it more true.

There was a train, real high up. I fell, far and hard. When I woke up, I was in an army hospital in Bristol, and my left arm was gone.

And that’s the simplest way to put it. It’s just gone.

Have you ever danced with a one armed man, Clint? Would you want to? That’s the question that I can’t get out of my head now. Would you want to.

I don’t know yet how I even feel about myself. All I know is that when we met and while we fell in love through the saving grace of these letters, you weren’t signing up to take care of an incomplete man. Hell, even right now do you know how much I’m struggling to write this fucking letter without a left hand to hold down the paper? Will you think I’m as pathetic as I do?

It’s not my intention to make you sad. But you’re who I can be honest with, so I”m being scared and I’m being honest. I love you more than you could know, sweet man, and with ever beat of my heart I”m callin’ you home to me, no matter what happens with us after.

I just need you safe, you hear me? Safe, warm, whole, and happy as you can be flyin’ out of planes. Go get ‘em, Amazing Hawkeye. Get ‘em and then come home to tell me all about this picture you sent me that I'm devastated never made its way to my hands.

All the love I’ve got left,

B

PS - If by some miracle you receive this letter, you can send a response back to Steve’s place, if you can. The hospital isn’t far and he brings his ugly mug around as much as possible, so he’ll be sure to get them to me, just like he did with this one.

PPS - I realize that this may not be the safest, most coded letter I’ve sent. So keep it close to you or destroy it, okay? With all of the atrocity you’re in the thick of right now, it won’t seem so scary for anyone to find out about me, so don’t worry about that. What are they gonna do, kick me out of the army? And if anyone lays a hand on you over this letter, over us lovin’ each other, put an arrow in their ass and traverse across the ocean. I’ll be waiting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I totes wrote this letter with my left hand either behind my back...or I was sitting on it. Excuse any messed up letters (lower case h's were hard), but I thought I could at least try my hand at a bit of in vivo work. 
> 
> Also, I really need to call out hawkguyandthewinterdude for literally carrying this fic for the last 6-8 weeks. Not only did it fit into our outline, but it also fell at a time when I was hauling myself and my family halfway across the country to move states, so knowing that this fic was in her hands and not having to worry about it was seriously such a stress reliever. I love you, boo.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Technically I knew what I was getting myself into. That I was heading off to war. It seemed to dawn on all of us at the same time."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Okay, so first of all, I have to say, that I am so proud of this letter. I really, really like how it turned out and I do hope that you guys like it just as much.  
> There are some darker topics in this letter, Clint speaking of the horrors that he sees but nothing too graphic or in detail. (Just wanted to let you guys know.)  
> Anyway, enough said. Thanks so much for sticking around and enjoy the new chapter!

  
  
  
  


 

B,

 

oh my love, I don’t know how this letter managed to find me, but I haven’t been able to stop crying since I got it. I… everything is such a huge mess. I… I don’t think I slept more than two hours a night since we got lost in Normandy.

Technically I knew what I was getting myself into. That I was heading off to war. It seemed to dawn on all of us at the same time. There were so many planes, filled with hundreds of soldiers ready to be dropped off, but B, it… oh god.

 

The tension on the plane was so thick you could barely breathe. We were all looking at each other, nobody saying a word while they took us further and further away from base.

For a second, you know, I thought it was beautiful, being so high up, drifting through clouds until the sun went down. But… fuck, B. They knew. They fucking knew. And they were waiting for us. So many of us didn’t even make it to the ground, B. I… I watched planes get shot out of the sky, crashing into the ground in a huge explosion, watching… fuck. I can’t B. I just can’t.

 

But, we were lucky. We made it out of the plane, but it wasn’t like any of the training jumps. I was so scared, B. Hundreds of parachutes all around us and we were just… hanging in there. Slowly drifting towards the ground, watching enemy fire hitting planes and soldiers all around us, hoping and praying that they won’t shoot us down as well, while we were this… helpless. I landed on the ground and for a second I couldn’t move. There was so much noise. So many of us screaming while… I don’t think I will ever be able to forget this. Not until I die, B.

 

My legs and hands were shaking so badly I could barely get rid of my chute. 

I had no idea where I was, where the rest of my unit was. The whole plan, the mission it was… I… fuck. I was sure I was going to die right there. Without even a chance to try and find you here. But… now that I know, I don’t know what to say or even think, my love.

 

It was a miracle that your letter found me when it did and I couldn’t be more grateful for this. You’re _safe_. You’re.. _home_.

 

I am so, so infinitely sorry for bringing you this much grief over my decision, but please, my love, my darling, promise me you won’t blame yourself for MY decision. It was never your fault and let’s be honest, it was only a matter of time until they would find me and I am even less a factory worker than a fucking soldier. Of course, I was, stupidly, hoping I might see you here. Find you in some base or in the trenches but… that wasn’t why I signed up, why I agreed to become a soldier.

 

I love you, B. And it… pains me, almost kills me to hear you were injured. That you were hurt badly enough to be sent back home, my love, but at the same time… I am so fucking relieved you got out of this alive. I’m relieved you are back with Steve, that you’re fighting to get better.

 

I’m not dead. Not hurt either. After… fuck. After the initial drop, everything was fucking crazy for a while. We were so far away from where we were supposed to land. So many of us… died before they even touched the ground. I had no idea where my unit was or where to go, but I found some soldiers, as lost as I was and together, we managed to survive the night. The longer we walked, the more soldiers we found and eventually we made it to the meeting point.

 

God, B. It’s been barely a month and… and. There is So much blood on my hands, B. I… I’ve been trying to get it off. I’ve been scrubbing my hands in every creek I find but.. but it’s not coming of. It’s never going to come off, is it?

 

I’m so sorry, my love, that this is just as dark, but I… I can’t get it out of my head. Every time I close my eyes, I see them. I see soldiers, I see my friends, lying there on the ground, staring at me… and I couldn’t save them. God, B. I don’t know how you… how you managed to send all those letters. I can barely keep my hands steady enough to write this letter and you definitely don’t need me to unload all my crap on you while you’re struggling like this.

I want to cheer you up, reassure you and make you smile the way your letters made me smile, but it’s real hard to find positive things to say, right now.

 

But, even though it’s not much. You’ll find one of my dog tags in this letter. My promise to you, that I’ll be coming home. I don’t know when exactly, but I promise. Okay?

I’m going to come home to you. I’m going to take you dancing. I’m going to hold onto you and never let go. I promise you that.

 

Oh my darling, as if anything could just make all these feelings disappear. From what I’m reading, I take it, that you didn’t get two of my last letters. Which… god I wish you’d be able to read them, because I’m sure they would make you believe that you will never have to worry about me not wanting you like you are now. Maybe a little different, down an arm, but my love, THIS, it won’t make a difference for me. You’re IT for me. You’re my future. You are my whole world, B. We’re going to get milkshakes together, we’ll dance in your apartment, ask Stevie to go take Peggy out dancin’ so we got some time to just… be together. To just be us for a little while.

 

I am devastated to read how much you’re struggling right now. God I really wish I could be there for you. Hold you when you’re sad, feel like all you can do is cry, rub your back when the medicine makes you sick. Run my fingers through your hair while you try to sleep. Kiss you to distract you from the pain.

 

Oh my love, you’ll never be incomplete, I will never ever think you are pathetic or less of a man. I will never think you’re anything but perfect for me. Because you are. You’re mine and you are perfect. No matter what.

 

Forever yours,

C

 

PS: I promise to keep this letter close to me. Just like the picture you sent me back then, the one of you smilin’. And I even got that small canvas in my pocket, for luck.

 

 

PPS: God, B, I love you so much. And I miss you so much it’s hard to breathe. I wish I could be there for you, to make you smile when your mind will play tricks on you, to be your light in the darkness that seems to be creeping in no matter what time it is.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How do you guys like the handwritten letters? I was trying to mess the pages up a little bit, and try to make it look like Clint was struggling to keep his hand steady while writing - which honestly - that's really fucking hard. I hope you like it!


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks!
> 
> This one should be pretty straightforward. We're back to our bi-weekly back and forth between Clint and Bucky; I can't believe we're already posting chapter 17. Six more chapters to go, which is both super exciting and super sad. We're so grateful for everyone who has stuck with this since the beginning! I know for me personally, this has been the most interesting and emotional creative experience I've ever had and sharing it with someone who I love with my whole damn heart has been amazing. 
> 
> Alright, enough waxing poetic. Enjoy! And just know that we have plenty of embedded/bonus add ins coming with the remainder of the chapters as well (not that we're excited, or anything). 
> 
> \- EP

  
  
  


 

Sweetheart-

What I want you to do, need for you to do right now, this very fucking second, is close your eyes, hold this letter in your hands, and just _breathe_. I’ll breathe with you, because my heart is pounding and beating all outta shape after just having read your letter because you. You sent me a letter. Which means that you were alive, and well enough to sit down and write for a few minutes, to hand it over to your commander. I can’t thank every single cursed star in the sky above us for that, even though I know right now the world is on fire for you.

I know. I know it’s bad, and that’s why I was so goddamn angry and torn up over your last letter. That’s why I didn’t want to believe that you were there in the middle of the nightmare. You’re too good for it, too fuckin’ good for it, and before you argue with me over anything that you mighta done in your past while on the road, just stop. You don’t deserve what’s happening around you. Nobody over there does, doll, and I’m so sorry you have to see it.

Are you breathing? Do it again, for me. I’ll do it with you, all the while wishing you were here, wishing you were breathing this same air. It’s hospital air, yeah, but all the same. It’s clean and cold and sometimes it smells like mint. And I know it’s not just my imagination like I thought it was, not just the morphine, because I’m barely on the stuff anymore. Just a bit before I go to sleep at night, because when I roll onto my left it burns. By the time I wake up though, I’m ready to face the pain because it’s tolerable.

This, your letter, knowing that sick and sticky feeling of horror and guilt bubbling up all around in your body? That’s the intolerable pain that I’m left with every waking moment, and every moment when I’m dreaming. Just know, when you do make it home to me, that we can feel it together because I don’t think it will ever truly go away.

That said, I’m going to say this to you, even though it might make you question what kind of person you’ve gone and given your heart away too; Clint, if it means you coming back here alive, you do whatever you gotta do. That blood on your hands means that blood is still runnin’ through your veins and beatin’ your heart, and that is what matters right now. It’s selfish of me but I for one don’t give a shit. We can wash away that blood in the shower together, or at the beach. We can dip our hands into a batch of holy water if it makes a difference to you, but no matter what we’ll get the red off together.

Here’s a distraction that you might like, that might tide you over a bit; I’m going home tomorrow. Stevie says that he has my room whipped into tip top shape, dusted and did the wash for my bedding and everything. Said that he framed a photo of us and put it on my nightstand; it’s gotta be the one you mentioned, the one you sent to me in a letter that I got, and I also have your letters waiting for me when I get home. I’m sorry I don’t really remember it all that well; my memory is still a little hazy, but all I know is that I can’t wait until I get back home to look at us together until I fall asleep at night.

The arm, obviously, is still gone. That much hasn’t changed, but I’m mostly healed up from that first surgery and a second one that they had to do about a week after I wrote you last. They had to remove some dead tissue, some more bone and muscle which sounds gruesome, but I gotta say that I’m glad they did it. It was hurting something fierce and looked just as bad. Now, ain’t nothing there but skin and a big scar, right up near my shoulder. It’s strange, C, how sometimes I think I can still feel my arm. Sometimes it feels like I have a charley horse, or even an itch in the crook of an elbow that isn’t there anymore and it is almost enough to drive me mad. I’m not sleeping all that well sometimes because of it, but they tell me it’ll get better.

So the arm’s getting better, sweetheart. No more hazy drug days or sweatin’ out infections, popping antibiotics. Everyone around me smiles and jokes, the nurses tell me that I’ll be ready to go out and sweep a sweet dame off her feet any day now. Steve always winks at me when they make jokes about that, which makes me feel better, less angry. All I want to tell them is that nothing will truly be better until this fucking war ends and my fella is back home with me where he belongs.

I wish I could see what you’re doing right now. Where you are, if it’s raining, if it’s light or dark. If you’re flyin’ through the air or hiding on the ground. I hope you’re breathing right now, with me, in and out and deep. Hell, I even hope you might be crying still, but maybe for a different reason. Cry because you miss me, love, not because you’re scared. I’ve got your tag with mine around my neck and it sits right above my heart, reminding me of what you promised. You promised to come home, just like I did for you what feels like forever ago. I kept my promise, now you keep yours.

And with all the shit swirling around us right now, I want to say thank you for what you wrote. I’ve been so worked up that you wouldn’t want to write to me anymore, knowing what would be waiting for you here. And now I have your words that take my goddamn breath away that I can pull out and read at any time when I need to be reminded that you love me. You love me, one arm down. You love me, knowing that I might be off balance when we go dancin’.

And I love you too, no matter what. No matter what you bring back from war with you, or what you may leave behind, I’ll be waiting here to love you regardless.

Stay safe, doll. Please. And remember to just keep breathing.

Yours always,

B

PS - I’ll try to send something for you with my next letter, maybe a new picture of me so you’ll know what to expect when you walk your ass off the plane back onto America soil. I’m not quite up for smiling real big yet, my darling, but I’m workin’ up to it.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "God, I wish I knew how these letters seem to find me every time I need them the most."

  
  
  
  


My eternal love,

 

god, I wish I knew how these letters seem to find me every time I need them the most. The way you told me to close my eyes and breathe… it’s helpin’, my love. It really is. It’s been a struggle. To breathe, to catch my breath even. Summer is definitely over and fall is ending way too fast as well. It started snowing last week and I don’t think I’ve been truly warm in a month. I’ve been wearing two pairs of socks and once they got wet, fuck. I’m so. Damn. Cold. All the time.

I’ve been trying to remember our winters in the south, Florida that one year, California the next. That’s where we were going this year as well. Slowly making our way southwest from New York. God, I wonder how Elena is. She was mad when I left. I think she was more sad than mad, but I was glad she wasn’t crying when I packed and caught a ride back to Kentucky. I’ve also been thinking about your first few letters. Telling me about the heat inside those hangers. I don’t think I even want to think about a milkshake right now. My fingers are slowly getting numb while I write, almost sitting on top of the small fire to stay warm while I write this.

 

Sorry, my love, that this letter probably takes longer than usual to get to you, but I had to stop writing and warm my fingers a little. I could barely hold onto my pen anymore.

You know what’s the worst? Wet feet. Our boots aren’t exactly waterproof anymore and Doc said to try and keep our feet as dry as possible. Fight off infections from frostbite and whatever else there is aside from Nazis that’s trying to kill us one way or another.

 

The other day, I accompanied the Doc to the hospital, helped pull one of us out and get him to the hospital. And.. fuck. I… can’t even begin to describe what’s going on there. Every inch of the place is filled with soldiers. Some of them are… fine. Mostly. They can stand and talk. Even laugh. But then there’s the others. And you just… know. You just know that they won’t make it through the night. That the blood and plasma and meds they get…

No! No I can’t think that way. I can’t imagine what you went through, my love. What you must’ve looked like when you were injured. I’m glad they didn’t give up on you. I’m so grateful they got you out of there, to the hospital and the hell out of there, back home.

What if I’ll end up in there? I’d want them to help me even if it might look bleak.

 

I’m so sorry, my darling. I have to keep stopping and take breaks from writing. Warm up a little before I continue. I keep going back to your letter when it gets hard to breathe, when the cold burns in my lungs so badly, I remember to close my eyes and take a deep breath. I pretend to smell the hospital air with you. Or the air in your room, wrapped up in blankets in front of the furnace to stay warm when it’s snowing outside.

 

You know, it might sound selfish, but I can’t help myself and I don’t think there’s a point anymore to lie to you, it’s… somehow comforting to know that you’ve been here. That you’ve seen what I’m seeing, that you… get it. That there is blood on your hands as well. That we can try to wash it off together. It helps to know that if I wake up from a dream, of being back here, feeling the cold deep in my bones that you’ll be right there with me. Wrapped in my arms and helping me to feel warm again.

 

I’m so fucking glad you are getting better. That you got to go home to Stevie and Peggy and Sharon. I’m sure you keep them on their toes. God, I wish I could be there with you. See those tags around your neck, hold onto them when I pull you close for a kiss, breathe you in when it feels like something is lodged in my throat, even cry onto your shoulder when everything’s just… too much again.

 

I do miss you. I miss you so much it hurts, but still, my heart somehow feels lighter than when I knew you were over here, getting shot at, fighting to stay alive every minute, every second of the day. I don’t know if it was this bad when you were over here, or if it’s been getting worse in the last couple of months.

 

You know, I had this thought, and I’m not sure if it’s good or bad, or if it’s slowly driving me insane, but do you remember when you got back stateside? Because there’s a chance that we both were back there and we just… missed each other. Fate’s kind of cruel, isn’t she? To get us together for a moment just to force us apart again and again and again.

At first, I thought the universe wanted us to be together, that the forces were working for us, but now..? I’m not so sure anymore, but you know what? Fuck the universe. Fuck everyone and everything that thinks they can keep us apart now.

I will do whatever it takes to keep my promise and get back to you. Because I know you’ll be waiting for me, loving me no matter what kind of baggage I might bring with me, or what I might leave behind.

 

Staying as safe as I can, trying to remember to breathe.

 

I love you,

C

 

PS: Oh my love, I can’t wait to get that picture of you and even though I adore your smile something fierce, I also like it when you scowl at me, or glare at me or simply just… look at me. Fuck, I can’t wait to hear you say my name, hear you laugh, hear and feel your heart beating with my ear pressed against your chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh wow, Jesus Christ, guys! I'm getting pretty nostalgic and sad the closer we get to THE END and I am so excited to hear what you guys think of it once it's all done and over. It's gotten cold here yesterday and it was even worse today, so I really feel with Clint right now. I was outside only for an hour or two and I couldn't feel my fingers anymore, while they were safely tucked away in my sleeves! 
> 
> Anyway, I really hope you enjoyed this chapter and savour them as much as I do.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter and the amazing art that comes along with it! (artist info in end notes). We are nearing the end of this fic - 4 more chapters/letters, which means that it will be concluded in 8 weeks. We are both absolutely in our feelings about being this close to the end, as this has been such a fun project, in no small part due to each and every person who has been kind enough to subscribe, leave kudos, and support us with encouraging and fantastic comments. 
> 
> We love you, is what I'm saying. Now, please enjoy!
> 
> -EP

  
  
  


 

My Dearest Sunshine-

That’s a bit corny, isn’t it? That’s okay, I meant for it to be. I just wanted to start this letter with something warm, and I guess something true. It’s hard for me to imagine, all of it. Not only the cold because it was so goddamn hot for the most part when I was there, but also the thought of you being cold, pale and shivering. You really are a ray of sunshine; that hair of yours in the circus lights, the sweat that beaded on your skin, that glow of yours that I’m always bringing to mind when I think of you. I hate the thought of you bein’ dulled by the cold, of the cold being able to hurt you along with everything else over there.

You know what always worked best for me, doll? When I would be working the docks in the winters, cold and snow covering every inch of the water, so cold I thought everything would fall off? I would cover my hands and my feet in vaseline and then whatever kinda film I could find. You know the polyethylene or nylon that they use over there for the wheels? Find anything you can that’s thin enough to cover your feet and your socks before putting your boots on. It’s not a guarantee, but it should help.

Fuck. Listen to me. I sound like a wifely advice column in the paper, while you’re over there battling for your life and for other people. I feel real ridiculous, but it’s also important to me that you’re warm and as safe as can be, darlin’. I feel so damn helpless over here, so far away, and the thought of even being able to help in any way possible just makes me feel closer to you.

I’m glad to hear that having you breathe helped a bit too, C. Sometimes I remember what I wrote and take some real, long deep breaths and hope you’re doing the same. It’s not the same as sharing the same air in the same room, as breathing in and out of each other, but it’s something. A link. Any link that I can have to you is one that I consider a gift. And while I was over there, I could feel that same feeling. The feeling of Fuck Everything. Fate, the universe, the world, the war and every godforsaken soldier in it.

But here? Sitting here, existing here in this apartment, that feeling is starting to go away. Now don’t you get me wrong or go readin’ into that the wrong way. I’m angry, and hurt, and scared, worried out of my head for you and achin’ for you in every imaginable way. But you know what? I also see you here. I can imagine you sitting next to me on this ugly couch, can imagine you warming my bed. You’d fit so good here, sweetheart, with me, next to me, inside and all around me. And it feels close, so real that I have to believe that it will be. You’ll be here, and we’ll fit, all the hills and steps in between be damned.

There’s nothing wrong with anything that you had to say to me in your last letter, love. I understand; it would be difficult to understand what you’re going through without having been there myself. Impossible, even. I’m real unhappy about the fact that we both went through this, that I went through it and you are, but once you’re home with me I’ll be glad that I’ll be able to know what you’re feeling and why, and you’ll be able to do the same for me. Because things back home feel very different, you know? Loud sounds from the street at night make me shake and sweat, and sometimes it’s hard to feel like I’m not still there. I’m hoping things are different for you, I’m hoping more than anything, but if they are we will have each other.

As for things here, maybe I can try to brighten your mood a touch, even just for a minute. Peggy and Stevie seem to have opened their eyes and are finally planning on going out for their first date. Steve wants to take Peggy out for music and dancing, lord knows why because the fool has two left feet, but she seems excited about it. It’s real adorable, seeing them talking to each other now or passing in the hallway, getting all red and like they can’t stop smiling. I remember being like that when Steve teased me after we first met. I remember being like that every time I would open one of your letters, like my heart was going to beat right out of my chest.

It still feels that way, sweetheart. I know things are real dark, and real scary and have been for so long now, but when I see a letter show up in the mail and I know it’s from you? I want to cry. I want to laugh, and scream, and jump up and down like a school girl. I love you, you know? Sometimes it feels real complicated, and other times it’s just that simple. Through paper, pen and sharing a smoke with you once in the rain, I fell for you and I’m not going anywhere.

I clutch your tags close to mine still, all the time. It makes us feel together, C. I can’t wait to see you wearing them too, our names right next to one another over our beating hearts. My mouth waters for it and my body sings with the thought.

Until next time, love of my life, you remember to keep dry as possible, keep breathing, and keep looking up at those stars that we share. You stay safe and I’ll do the same.

All of my love,  
B

PS - I know I shouldn’t be, but I’m a bit nervous about including this photograph. I know I look so much different and physically so much less...but I keep reminding myself that you love me.  
You love me, you love me, you love me, and I don’t have to be afraid. Keep me close to you, dear heart, my sunshine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The absolutely beautiful art for this chapter was done via commission by @kier_t (Instagram). You can also find him on Twitter at @kier_to. He was a delight to work with and as you can see, his art is stunning.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It feels like these letters take longer and longer to arrive and longer yet for me to find a way to send them."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh wow, writing this has been a rollercoaster. It's getting bittersweet because I know how close we are to the end but at the same time I can't imagine ever being done with these letters and with those two adorable dorks. 
> 
> For almost the last time - I really hope you like this chapter and have as many emotions reading this letter as I did writing it.  
> Thanks so much for sticking with us!  
> I love you all,  
> hawkguyandthewinterdude

  
  
  
  
  


Mein Liebling,

 

it feels like these letters take longer and longer to arrive and longer yet for me to find a way to send them. I’ve been carrying your latest letter for a couple of weeks now and I just couldn’t find the time or energy to reply to you. I know it’s selfish and cruel of me to make you wait. To force you to live through the stuff I went through when no letters would arrive for weeks, months even. So first of all, my love, I am so very sorry that I had you waiting for so long, that no Christmas letter arrived for you, that you probably spent the last couple of days worried and not able to enjoy Christmas with Stevie and Peggy. I’m sorry my love. I am so sorry, but I’m fine. I think. Mostly, I think, I’m okay. I’m alive at the very least and I love and miss you so much it hurts.

 

It was Christmas a couple of days ago, as you might have already guessed. I almost missed it if I’m quite honest. The days kind of blur together here, but there was chocolate in our rations, and everything was so eerily quiet all of a sudden. It kind of seems surreal that we’re in the middle of a war and still… there’s some silent agreement that there won’t be attacks at Christmas.

We’re in this small village, god only knows where, half of the buildings destroyed by bombs or grenades or both.

I’m starting to forget if we’re the good guys or the bad guys. Because how can I be one of the good guys when I’m killing so many people? How can a killer be a good person? I mean… I know that Nazis are the ultimate bad guys, but do they deserve to die? Does anyone really deserve to die?

But I can’t keep thinking like this. I can’t, because if I do… I don’t think I’d be able to keep going. I’d hesitate and that would get even more people killed, good people, my friends, my brothers in arms.

 

~~But anyway, I’m trying to focus on you. On your letters, on the good things but it’s… it’s so fucking hard sometimes. To remember why I’m doing this. Why I want to get through all this and make it home.~~

Fuck… I’m SORRY! This is… forget about all this. I’m going to scratch it out later…

So! Christmas! We’re in this small town and the people here are so nice! They barely have enough for themselves and yet they open their homes for us. Invite us in, make us dinner and I want to cry because I don’t think I deserve any of their kindness. There was this one family who had me and a couple of the others over for Christmas dinner and they had two small kids. They were so sweet, reminded me of the kids in the circus, and I ended up giving them my chocolate. I know it’s not much but they seemed so happy about it and… I feel guilty for their suffering. They did nothing wrong and yet… are caught in the middle of this war.

 

They let us dry our socks! Which is great. And I took a warm…ish bath! I don’t think even the chocolate would’ve been better than that bath. Your tip with the Vaseline and the polyethylene film worked great. It’s not a magical solution for all my problems but it helps a lot. When the others saw what I was doing there was almost a fight over the Vaseline and film because neither had heard of that before. And you’re definitely not ridiculous or whatever you might think. It warms me already to know that you’re out there, and that you’re thinking of me and trying to come up with ideas and ways to help me out, even from so far away. First the breathing, which, honestly, my love, saved my life more times than I can say. It pulls me back from the edge again and again. I close my eyes and just breathe, imagine you there right by my side, holding my hand and god, the look in your eyes. There’s so much determination and faith. I just have to believe in myself when I see that look on you. And you nod once, squeeze my hand before you vanish again and right now, while I’m writing it down I feel like I might be losing my mind, but who cares if it helps… right? Who cares what gets me through it in the end.

 

I’m real glad that Stevie and Peggy finally got their act together and I hope they cheered you up over Christmas. You should definitely keep me updated on them, you know? How their date went, what they do for the next one and if Stevie had the guts to kiss her good night, yet. Or maybe Peggy’s the one to kiss him first. She sounds like someone who’s taking charge.

 

God, B. You’re right, so right, that you shouldn’t be nervous about that picture, because why on earth would you be? You look so beautiful to me. I can see how tired you are, that you lost weight, but you don’t look… less. You are still gorgeous, my love. I love that your hair is getting longer. Does it feel as soft as it looks in that picture?

I can see that determination in your eyes that I told you about. I can see the fight there and I know you’re gonna keep fighting tooth and nail until you feel better. All I can focus on are the tags around your neck, my love. I know what they’re saying. Know for sure, because I’m wearing the matching set. I couldn’t care less about that empty sleeve, my love. It’s a reminder, for sure, of what you went through, but it’s not making you less. Not in my eyes. Never ever in my eyes.

 

I promise to love you, forever. I promise, that nothing’s ever going to change that and that you’ll own my heart for all eternity to do with it as you wish. I promise you, that you will be my one and only until I take my dying breath.

If there is nothing that you can be sure about, there will always be my love for you, no matter how incomplete, or less, or broken you might see yourself, you will never be anything but completely perfect to me.

 

And with these words, with these promises I’m going to finish this letter, because I know that this was the most important thing that I needed you to know, to be completely and utterly sure about.

 

I love you. I love you. I love you.

C

 

PS: I’m sorry that I got nothing to send you with this letter, something like a Christmas present of sorts, but there is simply nothing here that would make a good or even just acceptable present. I just hope that this, and my promises are enough for now.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have exactly one wish, and that is for all of you to enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it!
> 
> (Well, and I guess a second wish, and that would be that each and every one of you who have tagged along with us throughout this endeavor truly understands how much your support has meant to both of us! Thank you!)
> 
> -EP

  
  


My love, my love, my love,

There is nothing to apologize for. Never apologize for letting me know that you’re alive, and whole, and still capable of writing. Because that means you’re still capable of coming home to me, and there’s nothing more in this life that I want than just that. Of course I was worried sick not hearing from you for so long, but I know that it’s all part of this wretched business of war. I disappeared on you for months, C, and though I felt awful for causing you worry now I understand what it’s like to be on the other side. You can’t help it, and I understand as much as another person is able.

And while it would have been lovely to receive something from you for the holidays, I had no expectations. We planned Christmas here as a small affair, and that’s exactly what it ended up being. Just Steve and I, actually. The dames were off with their families and so we banded together, just the two of us. It was the nicest day I’ve had in so long...since the day I met you, I wager. We didn’t feast or exchange expensive gifts, but we gave each other small pieces of comfort; blankets, art supplies, and Stevie even had a few new flannel shirts tailored for me to fit right up against where my arm comes to an end.

There’s a few things for you here too, sweetheart. Wrapped and under the lame tree that I can’t seem to part with even though most of the needles have fallen to the floor and browned. Part of me is holding out for you to come home, I think. I know it’s not the most rational plan, to let you come home to a withered and dead tree, and Christmas was months ago, so many months ago, but dammit, I just ~~wanted~~ needed you here, safe and warm with us, so goddamn badly.

It sounds like there were some much needed small mercies that came your way, however difficult it may have been for you to think about them as such. I can feel your guilt bleeding into each and every letter that you put to paper, my darling C, and it’s such a war inside myself to know what to say to make you feel better. I feel the guilt just the same, and yet find myself aching to reassure you that there’s no reason for you to feel guilty. That in acts of war men do things that they wouldn’t normally.

It’s starting to make me think that maybe neither of us should hate ourselves quite so much. After all, you love me, and if I’m worthy of your love then I can’t be a stain of a person.

I don’t know what to say either about how warm and filled with light it makes me feel to read your words about the photo I sent last time. I’ve read them over and over again, as I always do with your letters to me. “It’s not making you less, not in my eyes.” Fuck, but sweetheart, you’re such a salve to every imaginable wound I bear. And every reminder that we remain connected through these tags around our throats, ever

DARLING

OH MY GOD IN FUCKING HEAVEN CLINTON, IS IT TRUE?!

Stevie just burst into the apartment like an absolute madman, he's never looked so frenzied and he told me to turn on the radio and holy God but they’re saying it’s coming to an end?! HITLER'S DEAD!

Clint, I don’t know what to do. They’re saying Hitler’s dead and his regime has ended. I don’t know what that means, I don’t know what it means but I do know that I can’t stop myself from crying because this should be it, right? This should be it this should be it this should be IT.

Does this mean you’re coming home to me, and that it’s going to happen soon?

I never knew it was possible to feel numb, overjoyed and filled with such petrifying horror all at once because there’s always that chance, baby, always that chance that in the time it's taken for your letter to make it to me that something awful has happened. Nobody has come to anybody’s door or sent out any letters or made any announcements with your name, I prepare myself for it every day, but that doesn’t mean that

No. This is such goddamn great news, not only for us but for the world, my love. And I know that things can’t be over quickly or easily or for everybody, but this has to be the beginning of the end. I refuse to believe anything different. Rest in goddamn hell to that monster, and spit on his grave. This is a day for celebration!

They’re flooding, all of the fantasies that we’ve exchanged letters about. You, coming back to me. Us living in the same space, bringing life of one kind or another into our home, spending years only inches away from each other to make up for all of this time and space lost. I’m overwhelmed, and never has it felt so...so much.

There is so much to do. I have to go buy another radio! We only have two but there are more than two radio broadcasting stations and what if I miss the announcement that you’re coming home? I need to get the apartment tidy, and ready, and I need to make space in the dresser and the closet for you because I know we never hammered out the details but honestly, I can’t imagine letting you go anywhere any time soon except for right beside me, sharing my air.

We can look up at the sky together, and I can see the stars in your eyes.

I love you, you hear me?  
Hold onto that, just a little while longer, and Clint?  
Don’t forget to breathe.

All of my love for all of my life,  
B

**Author's Note:**

> Repeating again, this is 100% for fun. Some research has been done to know that Polaroid cameras weren’t really a thing in the early/mid-40s when this is set, as well as hearing aid technology which might become relevant in later letters.


End file.
